


Recovery

by aquestlikethat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12.02, 12x02, Caring!Dean, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Mamma Mia - Freeform, protective!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquestlikethat/pseuds/aquestlikethat
Summary: Tag to 12x02 Mamma Mia because SERIOUSLY?!? We don't get to see Dean, Mary, AND Cas all caring about Sam and making sure he's okay?





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what the description says. Hope you enjoy.

Sam is dead on his feet. The two Brits of Letters walk out of the cellar and he finds the adrenaline that was keeping him up is gone. His legs wobble, knees bucking but before he can hit the ground, three sets of hands are on him. And it is all too much, his whole body starts shaking, and a horrible thought strikes him - how does he even know if this is real. Toni manipulated his mind before, he has no doubt she would do it again. Dean alive, his mother here - magically back from the dead - Sam wants to punch himself for believing for a minute that any of it was real. He tries to shake off the hands supporting him and only manages to bring all four of them to the ground. Seems like that's all he ever does. "N-no-" he strangles out. "'S not real. Not-".

Dean's hands are on his face - no not Dean's hands, not real, Dean is dead. He has to remember. But his brother is warm and his voice is soft and Sam can't help but listen to what he has to say. "Hey, hey, hey. Sammy look at me buddy. I'm here, I'm real okay?” 

Sam tries to ignore him. Dean is dead, don't ruin his memory by falling for cheap party tricks, he tells himself. He tries to pull his head out of the hands that feel so much like his brother's. There is a hand on his back and someone is tentatively stroking his hair and he is so overwhelmed that he can’t hold back his tears. A sob drags out of his throat and Sam feels like the walls are pressing in on him. He can't breathe, there's no air, and he can't breathe. His nerves are frayed from days of torture and all of this touching, gentle as it is, is sending him into a panic.

Sounds are muffled but he can hear Dean's voice loud and clear. Not Dean's voice, he thinks but doesn't have the energy to really try to convince himself. "Just give him a little space, I got this." A few seconds and the hands don't move. "Seriously, back off." Dean sounds frustrated and angry. Sam wants to tell him its okay, apologize to Cas and his mother. But it's not okay, Sam is not okay and when the other, less familiar, hands leave his skin he allows himself to lean into Dean's hands on his face, just for a moment. I won't tell him anything, Sam swears to himself, but this little bit of touch, of comfort, Sam finds he can't pull away from. Not when the real Dean is, is- 

"Okay Sammy. Just you and me now. I gotcha, I gotcha. Alright." One of Dean's hands moves to brush a strand of hair from Sam's forehead and he winces as it pulls free from the dried blood of the cut there. "Okay, you're okay. Let's slow down that breathing, alright?" Dean pulls Sam's right hand up and places it on his own chest. "Try to match my breathing okay? Nice and easy." Sam does as his brother says and he can feel himself starting to relax. He stops trying to hold his head up in Dean's grasp, fading completely into the warm pressure of his big brother's hands. "That's it, just relax Sammy. You don't have to worry about anything else. That's a good boy."

Sam jolts back into awareness at those words, remembering a similar taunt coming from his torturer. “Be a good boy.” The dark haired woman had said and suddenly he remembers that this isn't real, it can't be and he is a fool if he thinks it's safe to fall asleep in this hallucination. Sam is well versed in coercive attempts to get information - or consent - a voice in the back of his head reminds him. Whatever this is, if the British bitch is trying to get him to relax then he can't. 

Sam tries to pull away and almost face plants onto the stone floor, his breathing picking up again. "Whoa, whoa. Easy Sammy. Hey, relax. Relax, you're safe." Dean tries to soothe but Sam knows better now and he won't let himself fall for this again. 

"No. You're not real. You can't be. Dean is- he's-" Sam chokes up, trying to pull away from the hallucination of his brother. "You're not real."

Sam tries to pull away, tries to wake up to end this torturous hallucination that makes the pain of what he has lost bubble to the surface. He can’t do this again. Dean is gone and he has to accept it, anything else will only tear him apart.

But the hallucination is powerful and it won’t let go. Sam feels pain in his leg and his foot but he can’t stop, he has to get away, has to wake up-

Suddenly there is a new pain. Not the burn on his foot or the bullet wound in his thigh. A familiar stinging pressure in the palm of his left hand. Sam opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing, blinking at the brightness of the basement. Dean is still in front of him, one hand on his face and the other gripping his left palm tightly, pressing his thumb into the cut there from Sam’s failed escape attempt. 

“Dean?” He asks, perplexed. Everything feels sharper somehow. Not more real but more likely to be real.

“That’s it Sammy, eyes on me. Remember this trick?” His brother asks, pressing his thumb deeper into the cut. “I taught you this, remember Sammy?”

Dean seems to actually be waiting for an answer so Sam nods hesitantly, not yet trusting his voice.

“I taught you this. Me. Okay?” Sam nods again, a little stronger this time, and feels his breathing start to even out once more. “I know. You thought I was dead and I know you’ve got problems with reality, but remember this? Stone number one.”

Sam takes a breath, stone number one.

“Now I know I haven’t exactly been employee of the month in this category with what happened - what I did - with Gadreel.” Sam flinches. “And Sammy I don’t know what these bitches did to you, but I need you to know that I am real. Mom is real. Cas is here too. And we’re going to take care of you, okay? Can you trust me, just for a little bit?” Dean’s grip on Sam’s hand doesn’t falter but he eases the pressure on the cut, letting Sam decide, letting him choose. 

Sam stares for another moment and then nods. He thinks he can, he will try. Dean still looks expectant so Sam opens his mouth, meaning to agree, to tell his brother that he wasn’t sure he would be able to but he would try with everything he has, but all that comes out is one word, “Dean”. 

And then he is crying again and leaning forward into the touch that he can finally believe, or at least try to believe, is his brother. His brother who he had thought he would never see again. His brother who was meant to be dead but was somehow here, saving Sam and making him feel safe despite the horror he had gone through.

Dean pulls Sam forward and the younger man doesn’t hesitate to tuck his face into his brother’s neck, bringing his arms around his big brother’s shoulders and fisting his shirt.  
“That’s it, Sammy.” Dean is whispering in his ear. “I’ve got you. You can relax now, it’s all good. I’ll take it from here.”

Sam wants to ask how. How are you alive? How is mom here? How did you find me? How can I be okay? Instead he buries his face deeper into Dean’s shoulder, closing his eyes, and the rest of the world falls away.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the title is lame, I am taking suggestions for a new one. This was meant to be one chapter but now it will have more, opps. Feedback is welcome.


End file.
